


Laundry

by Zje



Series: Your hair was long when we first met [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, tea and laundry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zje/pseuds/Zje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras got his life together despite cancer, but his friends don't seem to think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> even though part of the cancer AU, cancer isn't mentioned.

"What is it, Courfeyrac?"  
A curled head appears in the door, expectantly looking upon where Enjolras sits crouched over a book he is reading and highlighting, head in one hand (had he had any hair left, he'd have absent-mindedly played with a strand of golden locks, but it had been shaved off just two days earlier).  
"I was wondering... would you like some tea?"  
Enjolras looks up.  
"Do you mean tea as in TEA or as in 'there's a new pretty waitress at the tea parlor I'd like you - or me - to meet'?"  
Courfeyrac's face freezes. "I meant tea as in hot leaf water, Enjolras."  
Both of them hesitate. It is very unusual for Courfeyrac not to come up with a snarky remark or sassy comment or knowing smile, he is just looking at Enjolras with a straight face, almost... worried.  
"I'll... be right over."  
"No no, I'll bring you some tea."  
Enjolras frowns, but before he can comment on this very weird and out of character behaviour, Courfeyrac is already gone again. Bringing him tea is something Combeferre would have done, but Combeferre had gone away to attend a conference. He wouldn't tell Enjolras what it was about, but it seemed important enough for him to be gone for a couple of days.  
Some clonking can be heard from the kitchen, but Enjolras is concentrating on his book again. After all Courf hangs out here so much here he knows his way around the flat better than Enjolras himself, using their wifi and watching HBO (and developing new incomprehensible systems of ordering the DVD shelf).  
In the middle of a complicated paragraph he is now reading for the third time, working his way through word by word to put everything together in a form of sense (social scientists, why could they never get to the point and say what they had to say?), he notices the tea. On his desk. Still steaming. He didn't even notice Courfeyrac coming in, and that is even more unusual than the voluntary tea-supplying (the sight stirs the memory of Courfeyrac stumbling into the room singing pop songs, not even remotely drunk yet, and leaving a tiny bottle of lemonade on the nightstand before trying to climb out the window, all while Enjolras was lying on his bed reading and watching him). He takes a sip anyway (perfect temperature) and continues reading.  
It isn't another two pages before there is knocking on the door again – this time from Joly.  
“Enjolras, I came over to do laundry with your washing machine. Do you want me to put in some of your stuff as well?” His eyes dart over to the messy pile of clothes distributed across the floor, accumulating in at least two corners of the room, and slowly devouring an old box from when they moved in.  
Enjolras's eyes narrow while he replies: “No no, it's okay, I'll do it later, or tomorrow...”  
Joly raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything else.  
“Since when do you volunteer for doing other people's laundry anyw-?”  
“Nice seeing you!” and with that the door is closed again and Joly out of sight.  
Oh.  
Something weird is definitely going on here.  
But Enjolras decides against following his friend, he really needs to finish reading at least this chapter today.  
And he actually manages to read in peace for the next thirty minutes before the door opens again, this time both Courfeyrac and Joly standing in it.  
“Enjolras, we made you soup!”  
“WHAT IS IT WITH YOU TODAY!”  
He sends a highlighter flying across the room landing silently in a pile of dirty laundry.  
“You act as if I can't take care of myself at all!”  
The tea is gone, there is nothing to cover up the copper taste in his mouth. Enjolras turns on his chair and gets up-  
“I'm not broken or dysfunctional, I got my life together, why do you keep-”  
and he finds himself on the floor, legs not supporting his weight. In the blink of an eye two friends are at his side, helping him up on his chair again. The world is spinning, and no one is paying attention to his weak words of protest, but he doesn't really have the breath to talk anyway.  
“I am not... dying...”  
Slowly, his sight clears. A concerned Joly is checking his eyes' focus while Courfeyrac is holding his head.  
“God damn it, Enjo”, Courfeyrac says, his voice a bit hoarse, “we worry about you. Let us help you. It's okay.” Slowly he strokes over the shaven head. It's like a cloud is covering and muffling all of Enjolras's thoughts, and it takes too much energy he suddenly doesn't have anymore to move his body, so he just lightly leans into Courfeyrac. “I'm not invalid” he mumbles into the thick fabric.  
“No, you're not”, Joly agrees, “and it's not weak to accept people caring for you.”  
“and take loads off your shoulder”, Courfeyrac adds, “I admire your strength and I want to take care of you when I can, you know me.”  
Enjolras sighs and buries his face against Courfeyrac's tummy, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He doesn't need to say anything.  
Maybe he needs someone to help him do the laundry after all, just maybe.


End file.
